


The Joy of Loneliness

by Gleaming_Spires (cuppaktea)



Category: History Boys (2006), History Boys - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff, I have committed kidfic, I will now go for reprogramming, M/M, general Irwin abuse, he probably deserves it, ugh there must be some sort of forfeit i have to do now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:55:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22562110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuppaktea/pseuds/Gleaming_Spires
Summary: Stuart is away with work and having the time of his life. Tom is in with a dry microwave meal contemplating if his life could get any worse, when his sister rings in urgent need of a babysitter.
Relationships: OC/OC, Stuart Dakin/Tom Irwin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	The Joy of Loneliness

**Author's Note:**

> I am working on 'proper' fics but I'm a bit blocked rn and thought I may as well write this for the practise, as it wanted to be written, and now it exists I may as well post it.
> 
> Also: Christopher is in no way based upon my Godson, who I love, although Nicholas might be.

It’s not often that Tom returns home to an empty flat with the prospect of a solitary evening ahead – well this week it is, but not ordinarily – usually it’s the other way around, if anything. And, while he’s used to spending weeks at a time away from home, holed up in a lonely hotel room somewhere, a week at home alone strikes him as peculiarly depressing.

Stuart is away with the firm. Rare as it is, it’s still giving Tom cause to sulk a little. It’s a team-building train-away week, with the company's logic being that if they uproot their most senior staff members to Berlin for a week, then they will automatically boost morale in the company. The thought process baffles Tom, although, from the sound of it, it is working in Stuart’s case – lager by the litre and evening visits to strip clubs successfully resulting in a very good mood, judging from his phone call two evenings ago.

Tom jabs bitterly at the buttons on the microwave.

He wonders how Stu manages to bear his long work enforced absences with such good grace. _Admittedly, It’s probably easier when you know your partner isn’t in a sleazy strip joint_ he thinks, stabbing the film lid on his microwave shepherd’s pie with a fork.

The phone rings.

It’s his sister. Wanting him to babysit his nephews that night. His life has reached a new low.

“I have a date tonight I really don’t want to cancel" She begs. "My babysitter has come down with an awful dose of flu and even if she could come – which she can’t – I wouldn’t want the boys anywhere near her in case they get it, and their bloody father is away in Barcelona for the week with his new girlfriend. I have phoned literally all of my friends, you’re my last hope.” 

“What, all of them?"

"Tom, please."

She sounds pretty desperate, but he doesn't want to give up hope without a fight. "Won't their grandparents do it?”

“They won’t be able to get here for hours, that’s assuming they _can_ just drop everything at a moment’s notice.”

“You have no problem assuming I can,” He mutters, none too warmly.

“You’re family - _my_ family. Besides, I know you won’t have plans.”

Tom’s mouth dropping open in indignation sadly has no effect over the phone.

“Tom I’m sorry but I really need to go, there genuinely is NO ONE ELSE! Look, raid the fridge, invite Stu over, show the kids horror movies, I don’t care just come over **now.** ”

“I can do all of that at home. I understand that babysitting is traditionally undertaken by teenage girls but I’m going to need more than the promise of tv, snacks and having my boyfriend round.”

“I don’t believe this. I need your help!”

“It’s not that I don’t want to help" He lies "but I know nothing about looking after kids.”

“You’re an intelligent person whom I know isn’t a paedophile – you’ll do. Even better, you’re family so you kind of have to.”

Tom sighs defeat.

“I was looking forward to that shepherd's pie” He mutters, glumly.

“Get Stu to put it in the fridge for you.”

“Stu’s not here” He admits, somewhat reluctantly. “He’s in Berlin with work.”

“Oh.”

He registers her sigh of relief with resentment.

“Brilliant, then I’m not interrupting anything.”

“You’re interrupting _my_ evening.”

“You can sit in front of the telly with a dry microwave meal over here. Can you be here in forty minutes? I really have to get ready, I’ll see you soon.” She puts the phone down without waiting for a response.

He dials Stu’s hotel and leaves a message for his partner to call him at his sister’s and after she phones back to say she might be out most of the night, he packs a bag.

He’s slightly late in leaving because Stu phones as he’s about to walk out of the door.

He’s just back from meetings and him and ‘the boys’ are about to leave for a few drinks, he says.

“So I thought I’d phone up my favourite teacher-cum-boy toy for a quick chat.”

Tom can hear the grin in his far-too-chirpy voice.

“Well don’t let me keep you, I’m sure you have a lot of strangers’ fallopian tubes to see.”

“Ugh, calm down it was one visit a strip club. We weren't even there that long.” Stu tells him, still sounding way too cheerful –neither challenging nor reassuring. Clearly, not taking him seriously then.

It annoys Tom intensely – he doesn’t know if he's seeking comfort or spoiling for a fight, but the absence of either is grating.

“Hey, what’s up?” Stu asks, in response to his chilly silence.

He notes with satisfaction that the grin has been dialled down, somewhat.

“Emily’s babysitter is sick. She wants me to mind the kids while she goes out.” He tells Stu, entirely bypassing the deeper issue of his own insecurity.

Stuart laughs. “And you’re going to? I don’t envy you spending your evening with that little creep.”

“Christopher is my nephew, you can’t call him a creep.”

“Tom, your nephew is a creep.”

Tom can’t get his head around Stu’s intense dislike of his older nephew, but something about the child has always made Stuart’s skin crawl, or so he says.

“Anyway, look, I’m supposed to be there in a minute. Give me a ring there later will you? I might be staying over.”

“Ooooh Emily’s gonna get soooome.”

“Stu!”

“No, really. Good for her, she needs it, it’s been ages.”

“Stuart! She’s my sister!”

“You sound so scandalised!” Stu laughs “She’s basically my sister too.”

“No, she isn’t. Not when it comes to what amounts to incest.”

“Being pleased for her cos she’s getting laid isn’t incest. God, you’re such a prude.”

His tone is fond, but Tom bristles with irritation anyway.

“I really have to go. Please don’t do anything that’ll have me up all night worrying.”

“Sure babe.”

Tom doesn’t believe a word, but he’s already late so he shelves the feeling for the moment.

His sister is, predictably, up the walls when he arrives.

“You’re **half an hour** late!”

“I never actually said when I’d –“

“Christopher needs to be in bed by nine and Nicholas by eight-thirty – actually you’d better put him down now. Make sure you watch them brush their teeth or they won’t do it, if they can’t sleep they can have a drink of warm milk. The spare room is made up for you. You’re a star, I have to go.”Breathless, she grabs her bag and heads for the door.

Tom feels like he ought to have commented that she looks nice, but it’s too late now. He wanders into the kitchen, where his eldest nephew, Christopher looks up from a jigsaw puzzle to give him a half-hearted smile.

“Right, so… where’s Nicholas?”

Christopher shrugs.

Tom jams his hands into his pockets, feeling uncomfortable.

A scan of the kitchen doesn’t reveal the four-year-old, but thankfully there’s the plod of feet on the stairs a second later.

Tom tries to smile jovially, in a way he imagines small children might respond to.

Nicholas removes his comfort blanket from his mouth. “Where’s Harriet?”

“She’s not well, so I’m looking after you while mum’s out.”

“Oh.” He rubs the drooly blanket on his face while he thinks. A smile breaks out as something occurs to him. “Is Uncle Stoo here?”

“No, sorry, just me.”

“Oh,” Nicholas says again - somewhat harshly, Tom feels.

He’s no good with kids. He’s not actually sure what Stuart does any better, because he hates having them in the house and finds them annoying at the best of times, but clearly it’s a better job than Tom manages.

“Mummy says you need to get to bed.”

Nicholas appears not to hear him.

“Will Uncle Stoo come later?”

Tom shakes his head. “Sorry, he’s on holiday.”

Nicholas pouts and sits down on the stairs.

Tom is fairly sure it isn’t going well.

It takes twenty minutes to persuade Nicholas to brush his teeth and a further ten to achieve it. By the time the child is tucked up in bed, Tom is utterly exhausted.

“I’m bored” Christopher whines at him as he enters the living room.

“Um” Tom blinks while he considers what next to say. “It’s almost bedtime” he tries.

“Harriet plays games with me.”

“Well, Harriet’s poorly.”

“I’m not a baby, I can play games.”

“I don’t know a lot of games, sorry.”

“I do!” Christopher jumps out of his seat looking enthused for the first time that evening.

“There’s this one where we each have a paperclip and we have to flick a penny into the sink with it.”

“Tiddlywinks?”

“No, paperclips.” Christopher sighs, making no effort to conceal how exasperated he is by Tom’s stupidity.

“What’s that?” Tom nods to the now-complete jigsaw on the table in an effort to distract his nephew.

Christopher rolls his eyes. “a jigsaw”

“I meant the picture.”

“A farm.” He says this very slowly, as if afraid Tom might not understand otherwise. “I want to play a game.”

Tom is starting to think Stuart has a point about his nephew being a less than savoury character. “Look, I’m not really a games person. I’ve just come here so your mum doesn’t get arrested for leaving you alone all night.”

“Where’s she gone?”

“I don’t know” Tom lies. “Why don’t you get into your pyjamas while I make a start on my paperback.”

“You’re boring” Christopher mutters under his breath on his way out.

Ten minutes later, a small cry for help indicates that the bathroom is flooded. Tom swears as he soaks up the mess with bath towels and an abashed looking Christopher is persuaded to brush his teeth with relatively little fuss.

By the time he’s dumped the final sodden towel in the bathtub, he’s gagging for a glass of wine. Before he’s got up off his knees though (and wouldn’t Stuart find the thought hilarious) there’s a whimper and Nicholas appears in the doorway clutching a teddy bear, his face tear-streaked.

There’s a bear apparently, a real one. It’s hiding under the bed. Tom coaxes Nicholas back into his room and engages in a brief struggle with Misty the cat, who is under the bed, but is definitely not a bear. He tells Nicholas Misty was keeping the bears away. The kid looks reassured but asks Tom to take her downstairs anyway. Then he bounces around the room like a pinball on speed demanding a story.

In the kitchen, Tom briefly looks up from gulping down his glass of red to check the time. Nicholas is finally asleep and so far Christopher hasn’t caused any further damage.

He does a double-take and checks his watch against the microwave clock, but no, there it is lit up in red: 22.45 He has been here for three hours and not had a second to sit down.

Cautiously, he turns on the end of the news, putting the volume as low as possible. He wakes sometime after midnight with a crick in his neck and heads to the spare room.

The ringing of his phone jolts him awake after what seems like only seconds.

“Shit. Shit.” Hastily, he gropes about trying to find it in the dark before the noise can wake either of the kids.

He fumbles with his glasses and blinks blearily at the display. His sleep-muddled brain registers two things: it’s a foreign number and it’s two o’clock in the morning.

He presses the button to accept the call and slumps back against the pillows, not bothering with a greeting.

“I can’t sleep.” Stu sounds far too conscious.

“Me either. Some bastard rang me.” Tom’s voice sounds hoarse even to his own ears.

Stu gives a deep chuckle. “Sorry about that. How’s the babysitting going?”

“Ugh, I have a newfound respect for teenage girls. It turns out this job is not just watching telly and helping yourself to the contents of the fridge.”

"Want to tell me about it?"

He describes his evening to Stu. Predictably, he laughs. Tom wishes he could see the funny side, but he's too tired.

“I told you, that child is a creep.”

“You may have a point. I think genetically I still have to defend him though. After all, who else am I going to leave all my money to?”

“What money?" Stuart scoffs. "You know," He says, his voice lighting up with malicious glee "my mum’s been dropping hints about adoption.”

“ _Oh, **God**_ _!_ Absolutely not. Over my dead body.” Tom shudders and holds the phone away from his ear until Stu's cackle dies down to a normal volume. "Nick keeps asking for you.”

“Why?”

“He likes you.”

“Why?” He repeats, this time with genuine confusion.

“Beats me.” Tom yawns.

“If you were closer I’d kick you.”

“That’s a positive of you being away, anyway."

"I can find another one if you're up for some dirty talk"

"Stuart, the kids are just next door" He hisses, trying not to sound as scandalised as he is.

Unashamed Stu grunts in acknowledgement. "It was worth a shot." He yawns.

"How do you stand it?”

“It’s a nice hotel.”

“Not that. I mean me being gone for ages at a time.”

“I dunno. I wank a lot I guess.”

Tom can't help but laugh, even as he tells him off for not taking him seriously.

“It’s the same for you, surely?”

“No. I’m ok at a hotel. Being at home is worse, somehow, don’t you find?” - because home is where Stu is supposed to be. He supposes he's lucky to have the privilege of moaning, but he doesn't feel lucky right now, he feels miserable. 

“No. The hotel is worse for me. It’s what you’re used to I suppose.” Stu's voice is beginning to take on a weary quality.

Tom hums in sleepy agreement.

“I love you,” Stuart tells him softly.

Suddenly more awake, Tom props himself up on one elbow and pushes his glasses back from where they’d half slid off against the pillow.

“Say it again?” He smiles.

“Nah, that’s your lot.” But Stu takes a deep breath and mutters it again, anyway.

“I love you too.”

*****

Tom is used to waking early, but six is his normal hour, not half-past four, and with his own body clock, not – and he considers this crucial – forcibly, by having a small human jumping on him.

“Uncle Tom, I’m hungry!” Nicholas wails in his ear while chuckling with delight as he bounces on the bed.

Christopher makes several (loud) failed jumps for the light switch before succeeding in snapping it on (half blinding Tom in the process) and then joins his brother.

“Nicholas wants breakfast and Mummy isn't here. Is she dead?”

Nicholas starts crying.

Tom once again considers that Stu was right about Christopher and wonders how quickly his sister would get over it if he gave him a clip round the ear.

Shuffling into the kitchen in the complete darkness he doesn’t even notice he’s forgotten to put on his glasses until flicking the light on fails to make anything clearer.

He hurries back downstairs for the second time to the accompaniment of Nick positively screaming for cereal. It’s nerve-wracking.

Christopher is more sedate, simply informing him over the din that: “Mum says I can watch cartoons in the morning.”

“Fine.” Tom agrees readily, struggling with his resolution to leave the child unharmed. The thought of how superior Stu would be is what swings it in the little dick’s favour.

He’s dozing miserably on the sofa when at long last there's the sound of the front door opening.

In the hall he finds his sister trying to tiptoe in without waking anybody. He’d like to laugh bitterly but he hasn’t got the energy.

“Where have you been?” He hisses.

“I told you, on a date.” Sighing, she gives up sneaking in and making her way through to the kitchen. She dumps her handbag on the counter and makes a beeline for the pot of strong coffee there.

“How were they?”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.”

“Oh, quite good then”

Nick chooses that moment to wake from where he had been slumped on a beanbag and come barrelling into the room, fasting himself around his mother's legs.

“MUMMY!”

“Have you been good for Uncle Tom?” She asks, heaving him up into her arms to shower unwanted kisses on his cheeks.

Nicholas nods with a degree of confidence Tom can hardly credit.

“We were. Very good.” Christopher confirms, joining them.

He too imbues such confidence into this statement that Tom doesn’t feel he can argue.

Nick succeeds in wriggling free and races back to the living room screaming that the cartoons are going to start.

She checks her watch. “It’s half-past five, I don’t think cartoons start until six.”

“They don’t” Christopher sighs. “We had to watch the news instead” He levels a disapproving glare at Tom. “Uncle and Nicholas fell asleep. It was boooring”

“Christopher, what have I told you about that word? Go and keep your brother company please.”

He shuffles off, obedient but reluctant.

“He’s going through a precocious phase.” She smiles apologetically at Tom. “You’re up early. Couldn’t sleep?”

“No. I had someone jumping on my legs.”

She nearly spits coffee into her cup as she’s caught by a sudden spasm of laughter. Tom would thump her on the back but he’s not in a charitable mood.

“I’ve been up since four!”

She splutters, patting her chest until she can speak again.

“Sorry, I forgot that wasn’t normal. Aren’t you going to ask how my date went?”

“You’re sneaking in at half-past five in the morning. I already know everything I need to.”

She grins at him, half mischievous, half shy. “You aren’t even worried he might be a secret slasher?”

“I have every faith in your good judgement.”

“Some big brother you are.”

There's more truth in this than he'd like to admit. Although she is his little sister, she's always been the one who looked out for him, really. 

"Are you going to see him again?" He asks, feeling guilty. "And no, I won't babysit" Guilt only goes so far, after all.

"I hope so. I'll have to wait until the babysitter's better and see if he's still interested" She glares at him.

He refuses to take any notice of this blatant hinting. "For God's sake, just invite him over."

“I’m not having him come to the house until I know him a lot better! I have two small children, he might be anybody!”

“You slept with him, thinking he might be anybody?” Unbidden, he hears his voice turn stern and disapproving.

“There’s no test you can do on people, Tom." She squeaks, her voice turning high and angry. "Besides I can’t go through my whole life a sexless freak. You ought to know”

His spine goes ramrod straight with irritation. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“How long has Stu been gone now? I’ve never known you so moody”

He turns pink with indignant embarrassment. “I only had about two hours sleep!”

“Welcome to my life”

"You chose it" He grumbles.

"I didn't choose for my bastard ex-husband to run out and leave me with two babies!"

"Shit, I know. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, ok. I'm just really tired." He offers her a conciliatory hug.

"It's ok, I forgive you." She pats him on the back and frees herself to start the washing up "Why don't you go back to bed, and we can have lunch all together later?"

"Thanks, but I'm going to head home"

"Won't you be lonely?"

"Yeah." He smiles "Yesterday, I didn't think it was possible, but after last night I'm actually looking forward to a spot of loneliness."


End file.
